Page 104 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

“Lay down,” I rasped, nudging her towards the chaise—a long, backless couch that rose on one end to allow ladies in dresses to recline and bring their feet up.

As I yanked my belt free with one hand and started on my buttons, she crawled onto it and rolled onto her back. But, I caught her ankle with my free hand and stopped her.

“No, on your side,” I demanded, my voice hoarse with need.

Bren’s brows rose, but she did as I instructed, and while I tore off my clothing, she crawled up the lounge to recline on her side, her waist folding as she curved her beautiful body, one leg bent to rest on the other, and her eyes bright as she leaned her temple on one fist and looked back at me, down her own, naked form, then scanned up my body until her eyes met mine. The fire I saw there answered my last reservation.

I didn’t hesitate, crawling onto that lounge while she squeaked in surprise when I lifted her upper leg to position myself, hurriedly straddled her lower leg and sat, wrapping her upper knee around my hip as I fell forward over her and took her with a ragged grunt.

Gasping, curled on her side, Bren lay back against the raised end of the lounge, bending one arm up behind her to grip the rolled edge and give herself leverage, baring her breasts to me, as she splayed her other hand on my stomach.

Still gripping her thigh to keep her against me, I dug my toes into the fabric of the lounge and thrust into her with a guttural groan, bent over her, watching her body—twisted and bare—flush with heat and tightening with arousal.

“Mine,” I rasped, grasping her breast and teasing her puckered nipple with my thumb, then meeting her eyes. My hair, which I’d allowed Grace to muss, fell over my face and I saw the light flare in her eyes when I stared at her through it, then plunged into her again, gratified when her mouth dropped open and she made a small, high noise.

In this position, I couldn’t hold her so easily, but I could touch all of her, and I did, sliding hands up and down her leg, her waist, her breasts. I took her chin in my thumb and forefinger, curling over her to kiss as I took her, plunging my tongue as deeply and hungrily as my cock.

She was frantic, helpless, and needy—reaching for me, gripping the lounge for leverage, whispering my name. But she already pulsed around me and the bond crackled with our growing need.

It wasn’t only me who’d struggled staying distant tonight. Not only me who’d hated pursuing the attention of others.

Still pumping into her, though attempting to keep myself on some sort of leash, I sat back, pulling her down the lounge, hard against me, then reaching for the arm that fucker Hanson had touched and lifted it, leaning my face into her elbow, kissing and licking from her bicep to her forearm, teasing the skin with my teeth, gripping with frantic hands.

She watched me with wide eyes, avid and hungry. And impossibly, her need ratcheted up until I was groaning, gasping, panting.

“Bren, I can’t last long. I’ve needed—”

“Don’t stop,” she hushed. “I’ve been waiting.”

With a shuddering groan I let myself fall forward, bracing one hand on the back of the lounge, the other taking her chin and pulling it up so that I could kiss her again.

We were a tangle of limbs and need, and though she couldn’t truly hold me, she locked that arm behind my neck and held me in the clutch even when we broke the kiss, both of us panting, gasping, rising.

“Donavyn… Donavyn.” Her head sank back.

I couldn’t let her go, but could scarcely breathe through the need. My mouth hovered over hers, our lips brushing, breaths mingling when they rushed. I trembled with the battle not to come, my body singing like the string under tension, pulled too tight and quivering. It would take only the smallest—

Her head tipped back and her breath stopped, her body stiffening as her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Dear God, Bren—” I croaked as she tightened on me. I thrust again, and again, each impact of our bodies breaking a tiny cry from her throat as she toppled over that glorious horizon. Then her body pulsed, and I was grabbed by the nape and tossed over that edge myself, roaring and trembling, taking her in twitching, erratic jerks, filling my hands with her, frantic and needy and gloriously satisfied, all in the same breath.

And then I collapsed, my body still humming, still shaking, curling over her, one hand clawed over the rolled arm in an attempt to take some of my weight, but pressing her into that cushioned lounge as we both panted, our bodies slick and heated.

Her trembling fingers slid up my spine, then into the hair at the nape of my neck and she gripped me there, blinking and staring, searching my gaze.

“You’re mine,” I said hoarsely. Unapologetically. “If I see him touch you again—”

“Don’t think about it,” she whispered, her fingers tightening in my hair, but her thumb stroking the side of my neck. “I’m here. You’re here… this is… this is what we need.”

Eventually, we untangled, but I found myself unwilling to let her go enough even to walk to the bed, so I curled her into my chest and held her for a time, letting my body cool in the late night chill.

We didn’t speak for some time, but neither of us slipped towards sleep, either.

Eventually, I combed her hair back from her face with my fingers and tipped up her chin, making her meet my eyes.

“Tell me about Ruin. You confronted him. Had to touch him. Tell me.”

She tensed and looked away. “I don’t want to—”